– What does it mean for a human being to be connected? When is one wired and where does this wiring go? Is the wiring visible like a marionette, or are we all wireless now? Am I connected? Of course I am, but to what? Is it to you or to…

– On my relation to my relations. As object, I remains distinct from those other objects around me. But I am not entirely distinct, as I am not simply an isolated atom, but am defined by the complex relations I build, maintain, and destroy. The family members I don’t speak to or foods I avoid are a part of me, just as my significant other or favourite songs are. There is no “at bottom” when describing myself, because I am more than myself, I am outside of myself.

– What then, if anything, am I? I am animal, of this I am fairly certain. I am mobile, desiring, creative flesh and bone. I have been told I am rational (of this I am always doubtful). I am a thing which thinks (though often doesn’t). I am real, this I accept. I am, but am not reducible to my relations. The same goes for my character. For I am also a history, and a trajectory.

– I am not my static presence, but a past and a future as well.

– My past is perhaps unknowable, as my past selves are themselves defined not in terms of isolated character traits or unchanging substance, but by their relations, both to other things, as well as to the relations of those things, and those things, and and and.

– I am a history in matter, a formation in the rock. I am a tender history in rust. I am an outgrowth in reality; a smudge on the windshield. I am a violent outburst of sight and sound. I am tired.

– How is history even possible?

– It gets crowded in here with all these memories (lies). For the amount that I write and think about memory, about haunting and the residue of relations, you’d think I had more of them. All my writing about memory is really about forgetting. (This is perhaps the thinker at his most candid, take note.) I forget everything. The vast majority of life forgotten: days, months, years, feelings, thoughts, homes. I would not survive without pockets of lists. My archive is continually destroyed by the washing machine. What would Freud say? (Don’t even get me started.)

I also want to take the time to collect some things that will, eventually, make their way into The Bones of Ghosts, whatever that ends up being. Consider this “Notes Towards Furthering ‘The Bones of Ghosts.'”

One thing that needs to be included in such an architecture of absence is “Reverse Graffiti,” like this:

Also included would be the work of Daniel Libeskind and other contemporary architects for whom the whole is found in the absence of parts, that is, where perfection is found in fragments. An example of this in fiction can be seen in the Second Death Star in Return of the Jedi, which, though seemingly incomplete and imperfect, is actually much greater in power than the original.

Beautiful works of art from Herakut. One of the things I haven’t written about on here is my love for graffiti. I think it has the power to be absolutely amazing art. My final project for my philosophy of space/architecture class in undergrad was a proposal for a vacant lot, and my proposal ended up being a graffiti park called “Open Space;” which was inspired largely by Baudrillard’s writings on the subject. Along with architecture more generally, I’d like to try to incorporate more art into this blog along with the usual philosophical writings.

Posts are going to be light for the next while, maybe a couple of weeks, as I finish up the semester. I have a lot of writing to do by the 22nd or so. I’m planning on writing an entry on Badiou in the next little while (one of the pieces I’m working on is on Badiou and politics), and as soon as the semester is done, I’ll probably have the next Bones of Ghosts piece written. Expect something on my thesis in the near future as well; my proposal should be approved soon and then I’ll feel comfortable talking about it in more detail.